


Beltane: Ray

by BradyGirl_12



Series: The Wheel Of The Year (Poetry) [12]
Category: due South
Genre: Beltane, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Holidays, Love Poems, M/M, Male Slash, Pagan Festivals, Paganism, Poetry, Prose Poem, Romance, Series, Series: The Wheel Of The Year Poetry, Sex, Sexual Content, Slash, Spring, Wicca, poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-03-22
Updated: 1999-03-22
Packaged: 2018-11-10 10:22:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11125161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BradyGirl_12/pseuds/BradyGirl_12
Summary: Woodsmoke curls up from the Beltane fire as Ray takes his Benny in the Great Rite.  Originally posted 4/19/98. This poem is a sequel toBeltane: Benny.





	Beltane: Ray

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this poem was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. Original pseudonym: Gilda Lily.
> 
>  
> 
> (c) April 10, 1998  
>    
>                             

Woodsmoke burns,  
                               
As do I.  
                               
My loins are  
                               
Wild  
                               
With desire.  
   
                               
And there he stands,  
                               
A dream come true,  
                               
Tongue running over  
                               
Rosy lips.  
   
                               
Ahh.

                              The chanters flail  
                              Their arms and voices  
                              As they praise  
                              The Sacred Mother. 

                              Our bodies join  
                              In wondrous joy  
                              As limbs entwine  
                              And he is mine.  
   
                              I fill his flesh  
                              With sacred passion  
                              And burn deep  
                              Within his heat,  
                              The Great Rite  
                              Of passion born. 

                              Pinch his nipples  
                              And cup his cock,  
                              Kiss his shoulder  
                              And plunge in deeper... 

                              Ahh, Benny,  
                              Let the Moon  
                              Shine down  
                              As the Goddess  
                              Beams  
                              Upon our love 

                              And the chants spiral  
                              High, high,  
                              Up to  
                              The sky.  
   
   
   
  


End file.
